


An Inheritance

by lilithenaltum



Series: All This and Heaven, Too [3]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Movies)
Genre: Birthday Presents, Established Relationship, Father-Daughter Relationship, Fluff, Gen, mentions of Frigga I
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-11
Updated: 2019-04-11
Packaged: 2020-01-11 19:05:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,967
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18430208
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lilithenaltum/pseuds/lilithenaltum
Summary: 18 year old Frigga Lokisdottir gets a special present from her father, the Prince of Asgard, and embraces the legacy and memory of her namesake.





	An Inheritance

**Author's Note:**

  * For [gaslightgallows (hearts_blood)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/hearts_blood/gifts).



> Happy birthday to one of my favorite people and dearest friends! I'm so lucky to know you.

Winter in New Asgard was beautiful, especially during the day, when the snow was bright and sparkling and the children all scurried out to play. But night held its own sort of beauty. Frost lined the great big windows of the palace and everyone gathered around fires to read and talk and sip spiced cider or honey wine. The three oldest children of Loki Odinson sat in the warm comfort of their Uncle Thor’s study, and peered through the large chest of scrapbooks and clippings that had been collected over the years.

 

Freya, the second eldest, lay spread over a plush fur rug and thumbed through photograph after photograph of her parents and aunt and uncle and their exploits with the Avengers. There were snapshots of her mother holding her Dragonfang beside Gamora Quill, grinning although bruised and bloodied; pictures of her father reluctantly pressed between her uncle and Steve Rogers; and her favorite, a line up shot of all the Avengers including her parents, taken months after defeating Thanos. They had attended an awards ceremony for their valiant effort in saving planet Earth and each face was appropriately solemn and stoic. Freya had heard all the tales of that time years ago, and could hear her mother’s lilt as she detailed all the gory and terrifying details.

 

But there was nothing like having picture proof, and that was what she flipped through next--grainy and blurry cell phone printouts via Instagram and Facebook that civilians had taken while the battle commenced. Freya found them scouring the net, and was excited to show them to her siblings and cousins but Aunt Sif had been pale and withdrawn while staring at them and Mother had, initially, been averse to keeping those pictures. Thor and Loki both insisted the children all needed to know their history. “No secrets,” the Odinsons had said quietly, and after a while, Brunhilde and Sif had relented.

 

Frigga, oldest of the five Lokiborn, lounged quietly on a chaise a few feet from her younger sister. She, too, loved to pour over the scrapbooks and memory boxes, but her favorite parts were the poems her father had written her mother and the newspaper articles about the Avengers. She sipped warm tea as she read the in depth and detailed history of the very beginnings of S.H.E.I.L.D. Already, she considered Peggy Carter her hero, and soaked up every single solitary detail she could about the Howling Commandos, often scouring the net for more information. Her thirst for knowledge was endless and relentless, something her mother and sister didn’t quite understand but something her father and eldest cousin encouraged. In fact, were he not currently across the Atlantic with his father the King, Magni would be seated beside her, right underneath the thick blanket, passing little slips of paper between the two of them. She missed having him with her and was counting down the days till March, when he would return from his stateside tour.

 

But in his stead was her brother Kori, who sat impatiently for his sisters to finish looking through the scrapbooks so they could head to the hall of treasures. All the adults had agreed that if any of the children wanted to go into the hall, first they must seek permission and second, Frigga or Magni had to accompany them. Freya and Kori had asked her earlier to go to the hall and Frigga hadn’t worried about bothering her mother with permission. She was almost a woman grown, and assumed she could take the children by herself. That didn’t mean she would do it right that instant, however.  Magni usually caved in within minutes of the younger children’s pleas, but Frigga liked to hold that little ounce of power over their heads.

 

If there was one thing that she’d inherited from her father, besides his brilliant green eyes and sharp cheekbones, it was his inclination for mischief and teasing. She liked making the kids wait; it was almost like payback for just how loud all of them could be while she was reading.

 

And so she sat for a while longer, though she’d already read about the Battle of New York (a story she’d heard a million different times and a million different ways and _still_ , she found herself favoring Loki’s side). It was only when Kori sighed for the hundredth time did she stretch her legs and gather her papers and books, stacking them neatly as her siblings watched, antsy and bouncing on their toes. She rolled her eyes; they’d seen all of this before. She wasn’t entirely certain why they were so excited to see it again. But she’d made them a promise and she tried keeping promises if she could help it, something her father said she shared with her namesake. That thought made her smile.

 

No sooner had she placed her slippered feet on the floor did Freya and Kori scramble for the door to the big doors of the study. Frigga couldn’t help but smile, their enthusiasm contagious although she didn’t quite share the same sentiment. “Alright, alright I’m coming,” she drawled, and flicked one of her long, thick braids over her shoulder. “You’d think neither of you had ever seen any of this stuff before.”

 

Freya grinned toothily, stepping out of the way of her older sister and grabbing Kori’s hand. “You’re a bookworm, Frigg. Of course you don’t get it. But you can’t tell me you don’t get even a wee bit excited when you see Mama’s Dragonfang?”

 

“Or Uncle Thor’s helm?” Kori piped up, his big brown eyes sparkling with delight. Frigga waved her hand toward the fireplace and ushered the younger children from the room, turning to lock the study doors with the key her uncle had entrusted her with. She then straightened her shoulders and strode forward through the halls, Freya and Kori right at her heels.

 

“You must remember that I’ve seen all of this many more times than you have,” she says, and it’s true. She’s nearly six years older than Freya, and ten more than Kori, never mind the twins, Nari and Narfi, who were happily playing in the nursery. At 18 months, they were only babies and had never even been to the hall. Mama said she’d allow them down when they turned five and no sooner before. “I remember when the hall hadn’t even been built…Norns, even when the palace was still just a big house!”

 

Freya snorted. “Yes, yes, we know. You were born in New York, you remember living in the Tower, blah blah, _blah_ …Mama says you probably don’t remember; you’ve just heard the stories so much you _think_ you remember.”

 

Frigga glared at her sister but kept walking, cutting across the dining room and the ballroom so they wouldn’t have to go outside to the courtyard. She didn’t have the right shoes on for that. They kept on down another long corridor until they came to a golden arched doorway that leads to a set of spiral stairs. The doors were open and Frigga snapped her fingers to light the stairway. Down they went, for several long minutes until Kori was shivering and Freya could see her own breath. It was almost always cold down here, and that didn’t usually bother the Lokiborn as they were part Jotnar, but the chill of winter seemed to amplify the frost factor.

 

Soon, they met a second set of doors, these gilded and inscribed with old runes that Frigga was still learning to read. She whispered the soft incantation to unlock them and they swung open softly, revealing a long narrow hall that housed all their family’s heirlooms and treasures. For a while, everyone was quiet, walking silently and respectfully through the aisles. Each item sat on a stone base, held aloft by magic and carefully contained with a spell that all three knew better than to try and circumvent.

 

Freya’s eyes practically shone in the golden lights of the hall and Kori was spellbound as he usually was when he came down here. And though the magic of the hall had waned considerably for Frigga, there was still a sense of awe that overtook her as she lead her brother and sister toward their uncle’s helm, Kori’s favorite piece.

 

He stood still and grinned as he traced his fingers over the shimmering, shifting case that held it and rememorized each little detail to take with him until the next time he came. Freya had walked around them to admire Sif’s breastplate and shield, probably imagining herself wearing both in some imaginary battle. But it was Grandmother Frigga’s dagger she was most interested in and as always, she slipped off to look.

 

She’d heard so much about the woman who’d owned the dagger that she felt she almost knew her. And yet, it still could not replace what she would never truly know. Loki always talked of Frigga the First in hushed and reverent tones, his voice sad and wistful to the point that sometimes she felt tears spark in her eyes. And once, her father had taken her hands and shown her how to read his memories, carefully guiding her through the maze of adventures and scrapes and heartbreaking tragedies he’d lived through to soft and warm and gentle memories of his mother. She had been a beautiful woman, tall and golden and regal, and Frigga felt honored to have been named for someone so incredible.

 

The blade she had gifted her son was also incredible. It was Aesir forged steel, the handle gold and bone, with intricate carved runes on the quillon and pommel. Loki told her that the blade had been forged with magic and blood and that it had been especially made for Frigga, given to her on her 300th birthday by her father. She remembers standing beside the display case with him, listening as he talked fondly of how it was presented.  “She too gave it to me on my coming of age and I cherished this one gift above all others. To have been given the dagger by her…well, sweet one, it meant everything to me.”

 

As Frigga walked down the aisle, passing her mother’s blue Valkyrie cape, something felt off and she realized that the hall of treasures had been rearranged. There was a display case missing, and her heart raced in a panic to find that it was none other than the one usually containing the dagger. She rushed through the other aisles, looking to see if it had been moved somehow, but came up short and found it nowhere. She almost bumped into Freya, close to where Aunt Sif’s armor was displayed.

 

“Have you seen it, Freya? I can’t find it, it isn’t in its usual spot and-“

 

“Find what, Frigg?” Freya frowned, confused as her usually calm and collected big sister wrung her hands.

 

“The dagger! Grandmother’s dagger, I can’t…it’s gone!”

 

Freya’s face paled and she turned about, looking for Kori in the hall. “Kori! Kori, come here right now!” No sooner had she called for him did her brother materialize right in front of them, glistening in a shimmer of gold seidr.

 

“That wasn’t necessary,” Freya said drolly. “You could have walked over here, but you insist on showing off.” Kori shrugged, looking an awful lot like their father.

 

“Isn’t my fault I can teleport and you still can’t.” Freya opened her mouth to say something in retort, but Frigga held a shaking hand up to stop them.

 

“None of that is of import right now. We have to find that dagger!”

 

“Grandmother’s?” Kori asked. “What do you mean _find it_? It’s…over there by the….”

 

Kori looked up over the displays and searched the hall quickly, then dematerialized and darted back and forth through the aisles. In an instant, he was back.

 

“Oh no. Oh no no no, it’s gone!”

 

Frigga nodded, frantically. “Papa’s going to be so angry that it’s gone!”

 

“But where in the world could it have gone off to? Nobody knows how to get inside the cases but Papa,” Freya said. She placed a hand on her sister’s shoulder and squeezed it comfortingly. “Perhaps he’s having it cleaned. Or maybe he wanted to use it for himself. You’ll see. It’s not missing; he simply has it out…for whatever reason.”

 

Frigga took in a deep breath and nodded slowly, twisting the green and gold ring with her initials inscribed on it nervously. Perhaps Freya was right. But she wouldn’t be at ease until the dagger was back where it belonged. She decided she’d ask her mother in the morning.

.

.

.

.

The next day dawned beautiful, the sun shining brightly on the fresh snow and all the children of New Asgard went out to play, including Freya and Kori. Mama sat on the carved stone bench beside Aunt Sif and Aunt Siri, wrapped in warm furs and blankets, chatting happily together as they always did. Baby Nari sat in Aunt Sif’s lap, while Aunt Siri bounced her brother, Narfi on her hip. Frigga hesitated to go outside and watched from inside the library, where she had a perfect view of the courtyard and the adjacent field. It was a lovely scene, but she was much too anxious to truly enjoy it. Instead, she practiced  ways on how to ask her mother about the dagger without giving too much away. She hadn’t asked for permission to go inside and she was regretting the decision to go over Mama’s head.

 

But if there was anything she’d learned from her uncle and father’s stories, it was that it was much better to be honest now than lie and lie and lie some more to cover it up later. So she gathered every ounce of courage she had, slipped on her most placid face, and threw on a cape to go outside.

 

Mama must have heard her coming because no sooner had she opened the great glass doors did she see a small brown hand extend outward, beckoning her forward. “Come out, Poppet! The day is so nice. Besides, I’ve something to ask you.”

 

Frigga obeyed silently, and sat at the bench between her mother and aunt, leaning into their hugs and taking Mama’s hand. She was smiling; a curious little smirk that she had learned early in life meant she knew something. Frigga sighed, leaning her dark head on Brunhilde’s shoulder. Nari reached out to grab her hand and she smiled, giggling when the toddler babbled and wiggled away from Brunhilde to plop into her big sister’s lap.

 

“And how are you, Riri?” she cooed, nibbling softly on tiny fingers that grasped at her lips.

 

“Hungry, probably,” Mama said, and she swatted the baby’s bottom playfully. “I’ve already fed her this morning, but she takes after your uncle. She could eat all day if I allowed it.” She was quiet for a bit, and then she nudged Frigga, glancing at her expectantly. For a long second, Frigga held her tongue, until her mother’s penetrating gaze began to wear on her.

 

“I’m sorry,” Frigga said in a small voice, and the Princess laughed.

 

“I know you are. You haven’t slept a wink, have you?” Frigga shook her head. “I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised. I’ve spent all your life trying to keep you in line and you turn out just like your papa anyway.” Brunhilde turned and pressed a soft kiss to her daughter’s head and Frigga felt something close to relief course through her.

 

“No, I won’t tell him about the visit. But you’ll have to ask him about the dagger.”

 

Green eyes widened. “You know? Mama, where is it?”

 

Brunhilde laughed. “I can’t tell you that, sweet girl. Only Loki can.”

 

Frigga sighed, adjusting her sister in her lap and narrowly avoiding a spit filled little fist on her cheek. “But Papa won’t be back until day after tomorrow and-“

 

“Are you sure about that?” Aunt Sif asks, and Frigga raises her brows, staring at her aunt curiously. Sif grins, pointing back toward the palace. “You may have a surprise waiting for you in the library, and the boys may be back from New York already.” The queen shrugs, laughing as Frigga jumps up from the bench and rushes toward the palace.

 

“Wait, darling, aren’t you going to hand me your sister back?!”

.

.

.

.

 

“Papa!”

 

Loki sat expectantly in the library as the chill of the lovely winter day dissipated in the warmth by the fire. Frigga nearly stumbled over her slippers to get to him, and curled into his embrace as he pressed kiss after cool kiss to her forehead and cheeks. Not much was said between them, but not much needed to be said. Loki could feel Frigga’s emotions and feelings and vice versa, a connection that Brunhilde said probably sprang up even before Frigga’s birth. Her siblings all thought it a little eerie, but Frigga loved how all she had to do was glance at her father and he knew her worries and fears.

 

“You didn’t ask your mother to go into the Hall, did you?” he said, and from the curl of his mouth, Frigga knew her Papa wasn’t angry. He’d always been encouraging her to assert herself and her personality and she’d always been hesitant. But maybe that little act of rebellion was the beginning.

 

“I didn’t,” she confessed, smiling back and taking his hand in hers. “The kids wanted to go and I honestly was tired of them whining about it. I don’t see why I should have to ask all the time anyway.”

 

“Why, Poppet?” he asked, and she shrugged, unsure of how to express her feelings on the matter.

 

“I don’t know, I just…I’m old enough to work the incantations just right. I don’t know any of the spells that unlock the cases, so no worries about mishandling anything. But I still have to ask permission to go somewhere in my own home! Papa, I’m 18, that’s…that’s old by Midgard standards!”

 

Loki’s chuckle was light, but not at all mocking and it warmed her heart. “I agree, though truthfully, 18 is still young by Midgard standards, too. But on this planet, yes, you are an adult. And yes, you should be allowed a lot more freedom than we’ve given you.” Loki sits back and sighs, and Frigga knows he’s thinking of something personal and probably painful from his past. She doesn’t ask; if he wants to tell her, he will.

 

“I think that your mother and I only wanted you to grow as carefully and as slowly as you could.”

 

Frigga frowned. “Why?”

 

“Because of the things we’ve seen and done as young ones. Because your mother grew up far too fast for her liking and I made far too many mistakes before I even really began to live. I like to think that you have the very best parts of us both, however, and so…I’ve talked with her about this-“

 

“That’s how she knew, then,” Frigga said laughing and Loki chuckled, pulling her over to wrap his arm about her shoulders.

 

“That, and your mother literally knows _everything_. She’s entirely too perceptive for her own good.”

 

“She said the same about you.”

 

“It’s why we work so well, my sweet. But anyway. I have some information on your grandmother’s dagger.”

 

Frigga sat up and watched as Loki opened the seidr locked portal he almost always carried with him. She’d been one of the lucky few who had been allowed to explore and open it on her own. Inside it, he carried important books about the Aesir and their history on Asgard as well as heirloom selections from Frigga the First’s grand library. And as Frigga looks, she sees the beautiful dagger that had been her grandmother’s, safe and sound.

 

“I was so worried,” she breathed out, and Loki took the dagger from his portal with careful hands. “Kori said you were probably having it cleaned or even using it yourself and I was just scared someone had run off with it, which makes absolutely no sense, I know, because the locks on those cases are incredible and-“

 

“Calm down, Frigga!” Loki said gently, brushing his hand over his daughter’s head. She breathed in deep and then laughed with a sigh. “The dagger has been perfectly safe here with me. But I didn’t take it from the Hall to clean it. And to be honest, I haven’t used it in a very long time. I’ve got a dagger from Mama all my own, you know.”

 

“Of course! The green and blue one. But...”

 

Frigga was a little confused as to why he’d simply take something so valuable and carry it around, but when he reached for her hand and placed the cool, heavy weapon into her hand, she understood why and she felt her heart racing at the idea.

 

“My grandfather gave my mother this dagger for her 300th name day. And I had plans to do the same for you, but…you make a very good point about ages and how things work here and…well, the point I’m trying to make Poppet, is that you are 18 and you are mature and brilliant and absolutely the pride and joy of my life.”

 

He paused and took in a deep breath and Frigga swore she saw tears in his eyes, and by the Norns, she hoped not because seeing her father cry (something she’d only seen twice) would absolutely wreck her.

 

“I have not done a lot of good in my time alive. I’ve tried, at least in the last two decades, to do more good than harm. And perhaps it isn’t quite enough just yet. But I will say that the greatest thing I’ve done so far is to have made you. And so, I think that you deserve that dagger now. Why wait three hundred years when in just 18, you have become a shining, brilliant, and beautiful young woman, quite like your grandmother, but all your own.”

 

Frigga didn't bother wiping her tears away as he leaned in to kiss her forehead again, nor could she stop her sobs of happiness and love.

 

“Thank you so much, Papa!” she whispered, hugging him so tight he grunted from the sudden display of strength.

 

“You most definitely are welcome.” He tapped his chin and narrowed his eyes with a secret sort of smile. “I know you’d much rather spend your time here in the library, in your books and spells the way I did as child…but perhaps it’s time you learn a little bit of dagger work.”

 

“Dagger work?” she asked, though she was excited for what he’s suggesting. She would never be a warrior the way her mother was, the way Aunt Sif was, the way her sister was probably going to be. But she could be Hel with a dagger, if her Papa taught her how to use one the way his mother had taught him. She clutches the dagger in her hand tightly and reverently and listens with rapture.

 

“Yes, my love, dagger work. And a few spells, too, for getting out of scrapes you’re not quite big enough to tackle on your own.” His smile was mischief all over and Frigga giggled as he pulled her up from the lounge. “Would you like to get started today?”

 

“Oh, yes, please! Can we?”

 

Loki pulled out his own dagger, another of Frigga the First’s, and got into his stance, the one she'd seen him use in countless training sessions outside and with her uncle and cousins.

 

“The first thing you must learn, sweet girl, is to never underestimate anyone, least of all yourself.”

  


And then, Frigga began her lesson.

 

**Author's Note:**

> come say hi on tumblr!  
> lilithenaltum


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